Hello my fellow Pilgrims,

My prayer is that as you read this you and your family are safe and healthy. Daily, I hear from friends and loved ones with heartbreaking news about their own loved ones. Please know my entire family sends you our love and prayers in this time of uncertainty and unspeakable tragedy.

Today, marks day 16 of self-isolation for my family as prescribed by the Governor of California. We remain safe and healthy; and have continued to make changes as information in our community is updated. Like nearly all of you, community spread is a reality with the increase of positive COVID-19 cases in Santa Barbara. As a high-risk family, we are taking extraordinary steps to remain healthy in this time of such uncertainty. Jeff and I made the decision to have all our food delivered in the hopes of protecting me from the virus. As a result, April 1st will mark two weeks since Jeff has driven our car. We leave the house for short walks around our neighborhood as permitted under the California directive. We are fortunate that weather in Santa Barbara is warmer than other parts of the country, which makes walking a relaxing and pleasurable experience.

I’m writing to you from my kitchen table—where a cool breeze mixes with the sun as it streams through a large opened window. On the table, my glass candle sticks create a prism of dancing light across my computer. The window offers me the view of a stately old orange tree. This orange tree is a wonder; she produces beautiful blossoms which annually deliver a bounty of sweet and delicious oranges. I didn’t grow up with fruit trees in Maryland, and it continues to amaze me that I can pick an orange steps from my kitchen. Our yard offers us the treasure of not one, but two fruit trees. Orange who you have already met has a sister, Plum. There is no doubt that the sisters were planted at the same time—with Plum standing proudly next to her sister Orange. Our reality is that while Orange still feeds us in abundance, Plum is dying. Plum has been in decline since we met. Each year, even with interventions, her branches have produced less leaves, blossoms and fruit. The small fruit she produces are unique rare gifts as she has tried to hold on… Her branches each year fail her, branches once strong have now become frail and hollow… we will soon lose her. It has always amazed me that two trees getting the same, light, food and water one would flourish and the other would fade. It presents a dichotomy…

That dichotomy is what we face right now my fellow Pilgrims. How do we make peace with suffering among us?How do we explain to our children, what we can’t understand? How can the strongest among us fall victim to this virus? And how do we protect and love those who are the weakest among us that may become victims?

The great faiths have all wrestled with this question of suffering. Each offering their own understanding of the unknowable. My answer isn’t different from others. How do I make peace with the dichotomy… I don’t. I love and respect both. You allow the laughter to buoy you in the sadness and darkness. You give thanks that you have stopped time in your bubble, that you have your loved ones close.

In these last weeks of isolation, my faith has become stronger than it has been in years. In the last year, I have struggled with my faith and was frustrated that it wasn’t giving me the feeling of peace that it had always offered. The tools and skills I have spent a lifetime developing were no longer offering me the support I needed. What has changed in the last few weeks? In the most profound way, the enormity and powerlessness of this time has brought me to a place of acceptance. Of all kinds… Which has given me the greatest feeling of peace in years.

My life has been filled with more social connection and solitude. Life and death. Laughter and tears.

Social connection? In this time of social distancing? Yes! I’ve spent more time in the last two weeks having long conversations with the friends and family I hold most dear, both near and far. I long to hear my friend’s stories of isolation, how they are really doing… that connection has been a gift in these times. My conversations in some cases have been filled with stories of profound loss, but many are filled with laughter to the point of tears. That deep connection of love and laughter are what we all need most. I dislike the term social distance— it’s physical distance not an imposed social isolation… I wonder if one of the positive outcomes of this time will be that we are better at using technology to truly connect. We have turned to each other with twitter parties and zoom happy hours. Last week, I promised to improve my Facetime skills… And I have done that.

Our solitude is easy to understand, our day to day lives are remarkably simpler. But there is something more. We have slowed our lives to bake bread with our children. We have gone on walks. We eat nourishing dinners as family. Our neighborhoods are so quiet we can hear the birds, we feel the breeze. In the Old Testament, God was often in the breath, wind and breeze. We have slowed our own breath to feel the breath of the Divine. We have met the Divine in the silence and stillness. This stillness is the medicine many of us have needed to center ourselves and families.

Life emerged this week from my inner circle, Quinn was born to my dearest one and her husband. Quinn’s birth also marked the first anniversary of the passing of the mother of my other dearest friend. We often hold life and death in each hand, that is the dichotomy of our journey. We must have the bitter to behold the sweetness of this life. We don’t have to like it, but we do each need to find the space to tolerate it. We must stop to celebrate joy in this moment of life. We will need to celebrate the new life that will flourish in this time. We can with the love and support of each other, do just that.

I want to close with just a few thoughts on how we can support one another. Each of us are walking different journeys and each of us carrying different burdens. Our stresses and responsibilities are all different. If you are in a place of privilege in this time be generous with your resources. Keeping in your mind and heart that privilege doesn’t always mean financial— it means with your heart and voice. We are being given the rare gift of time, use this time for that long overdue letter to a friend, the call to the person who is living in isolation. If possible, be supportive to those who have lost everything. For the grocery and food delivery folks, let us tip with purpose. Many of my friends are still paying our fellow community members who clean their homes—these actions impact the lives around us.

I ask you to please consider other creative ways to love and support our first responders. My brother is in a hot zone as police officer just outside of Philly. Like many of you, I love more doctors and nurses than I can count, I also have a dear friend in London whose husband is in transportation, and we all are grateful for our pharmacists, grocery and delivery people. The list continues to grow of folks who are daily in harm’s way for the good of the world. They are the greatest among us…

I leave you with this… the greatest gift we offer one another is love and light… I will light a candle each day at 4pm Pacific Time. That candle is the reminder that we are not alone. It will hold my love, light and prayers for each of you… Perhaps you will join me and light a candle in your own homes. May our light be the beacon of hope in these difficult times.

Let us be good to one another as we all become beacons of light. #beaconsoflight

The Divine in me bows and honors the Divine in you.

Kathryn